My mother lives in a small, cozy community, on the banks of the river. Just behind the plot begins a forest belt, and in the season there you can gather an impressive crop of berries and mushrooms. Since childhood, I used to run with my basket through familiar glades and enjoy communicating with nature. I married a classmate, his parents live near my mother, but on the opposite side of the street, and there is no exit to the river and the forest from their plot. That’s why when we come from the city we stay at my mom’s place.
Since some time my mother has changed a lot, whether it is her age or jealousy of her husband, but our vacation often began to turn into a showdown. It was getting harder and harder to settle things peacefully. When we stayed at my husband’s parents several times, my mother managed to start a quarrel there as well, this time with her matchmaker, accusing her of having two men working in her house and that my mother’s husband had died long ago. Her mother-in-law did not keep quiet, and the whole street heard them mutually expressing their longstanding grievances.
A month later, when everyone had cooled down, my husband and I had a good idea – to build our own house so that no one would be offended by anyone, there was somewhere to come, and we would feel like masters.
The question of the plot was solved for quite a long time, but then, having got the chairman of the village council interested, it was solved literally at the first meeting of the land commission. My father-in-law and mother-in-law enthusiastically started to help us with the construction. My father-in-law was constantly absent at our construction site and my mother-in-law did not object at all.
Only my mother objected. She came, stood above us, gave us advice, criticized what had already been done, in a word – she didn’t give us any peace here either. And so we built to her compliments.
A year later the house was ready, we hoped to sigh with relief, but it was not! Mom has not abandoned his visits, reproaching us for selfishness, they say now we did not see any help. The fact that her husband always did all the men’s heavy lifting on her land – mowing, cooking firewood, repairing the roof, etc. was not taken into account.
One day my mother, seeing that she could not get us, said:
– Why do you come here at all? You sit in your own town and poke people’s eyes out, you miserable dacha owners!
This was the last straw in the cup of my husband’s patience. He calmly approached his mother-in-law, but there was something in his calmness that made her mother retreat to the door:
– What are you, son-in-law…?
– Nothing, mother dear! Do you have your own house? Live there. Don’t come here again, unless we invite you. Stop eating our brains, at least let us have a weekend off. If you need help, call us, if there’s a fire, we’ll come running!
– What are you talking about? What fire?!
With these words my mother almost ran out the door. I could hardly contain laughter, watching as mom, looking around, quickly walked to the gate. My husband, having calmed down, threw up his hands:
– Well, I’m sorry, maybe with the fire and overdid …
– No, just right!
And we laughed together, remembering the look on mom’s face. Since then, we had quiet days in our new house. Mom doesn’t visit us, she accepts my husband’s help, but she only communicates on a “yes/no” basis. She probably still remembers the fire…
